


Birth and Re-Death

by ThreeDollarBratwurst



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Groundhog Day, Other, Self-Insert, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-11-28 14:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18209534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeDollarBratwurst/pseuds/ThreeDollarBratwurst
Summary: I swear, every time I turn around, someone else has got a clever idea to get me killed. And it usually works. Death doesn't seem too keen on sticking with me, though, so I guess I can get over it. Self-insert, mostly for fun.





	1. Ch 1: At Least the Robe Is Cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero wakes up in a bar and promptly dies. Twice.

**Birth and Re-Death**

****Chapter 1: At Least the Robe Is Cool** **

When I wake up, I am surprised to find myself slumped over in a wildly uncomfortable barstool. Everything is exceedingly hazy, but through the haze I feel an ache through each of my poor vertebrae. How on earth had I fallen asleep in that position?

“How on earth did I fall asleep in that position?” I ask out loud as my vision comes into focus. I am indeed seated at a bar, and a pretty old-timey looking one at that. The bartender gives me a disgruntled snort. He is very large, and very mustachioed.

“Hell if I know. Yeh came in as soon as I opened the place, ordered one drink, and were asleep before I could pour it,” he says, his voice sounding like he gargles pebbles for fun.

I don’t remember that at all. I don’t know this bar, or why I would have started day-drinking. That doesn’t sound like me. “Did I say anything aside from that?” I ask, a little mumbly from the lingering tiredness.

“Not a word. Well, unless you count the snoring,” the bartender replies. Right. Perfect.

“Okay, next, and there’s no way to ask this without shaming myself: where is this exactly?” I ask.

“Hah, you’re pretty messed in the head,” the bartender chuckles. “Southeast side of town, near the river.”

What river? What town? I’m very confused. “I’m very confused,” I admit shamefully.

The bartender sighs. “You don’t look like a local. Maybe you’re from out of town. You’re in Southtown.”

“Southtown...where?”

“What?”

“I’ve never heard of Southtown. What state are we in?” Did I really go that far from home? My head hurts.

“State? Well, I’m in pretty good shape, but I’m not so sure about you,” he replies. Oh ha ha. A comedian. Nice.

“Fine, you don’t wanna help, I’ll just-” I stop mid-sentence, as I reach down and find my phone isn’t in my pocket. Also, these pants feel weird. I look down at myself. “Waaaah!”

“What? What?? Did you get sick in your lap or something?” the bartender asks.

“When did I change into goddamn Renfest clothes?” I ask nobody in particular.

“What’s a Renfest?” he asks, cocking his head slightly. I spring out of my seat, turning around a few times to get a better look at myself. Something is definitely up.

I am not supposed to be this tall. I won’t complain, of course, but I am definitely like four or five inches taller than I’m meant to be. And holy hell, but I seem to have lost a strange amount of weight. I’d say my waist looks downright average, which is a marked improvement. Is this just lingering drunken confidence?

My clothes are also quite different than anything I remember owning. I am wearing robes, honest to god robes, and they’re honestly pretty fancy. Black for a base, with dark blue trim and accents. There’s a small shoulder shroud, also black with blue trim. The black leather belt matches my boots. I’m not gonna lie; this getup looks pretty sweet.

Not that it wasn’t raising dozens of questions by the minute. I shoved as many into the back of my head as I could. “So, uh, did I come in with anything else?” I finally settle on asking. Maybe my phone is in my bag or something and I can get a grip on what’s going on.

“Yeah, here,” he says, disappearing below the bar for a moment and returning with a canvas sack and what appears to be a staff. Like, a full-size staff, a much better-looking prop than I’d ever pay for sober. Was I drunk cosplaying or something? I look through the sack and find, weirdly, a bunch of camping supplies. Am I on a trip or something? That doesn’t sound right. I repack the sack and sling it over my shoulder for now.

“So, I didn’t say anything to you as I came in?” I ask once more. He shakes his head as I pick up the staff. It’s heavier than I thought it would be. Is this made of actual metal? It also feels kinda like it’s vibrating in my hand as I hold it, but so faintly that it’s more like a vague tingling sensation. Also, the orb-looking thing on top of it had a small light shining in it. This really was an expensive prop. “I think I’m gonna try and get my bearings outside a little bit. Thanks,” I say. He grunts a farewell as I open the door and step outside.

Oh.

I think I’m starting to get it.

“So when he said Southtown, he meant…” I say to myself as I take in the scene before me. True to his word, we are near a babbling river, on the other side of which are a multitude of townsfolk. But these weren’t the kind of folk I’m used to. This is an honest-to-god medieval town, with horse-drawn carriages and a big well and everything. “But that would…” My brain moves in so many directions that it simply cancels out for a while, and I stand there stupidly while my psyche catches up.

The question of “why?” comes up a few times, but gets quickly dismissed on the grounds that I have no way of figuring that out. I eventually decide to settle on what I know before getting into anything I don’t.

This really does look like Southtown as I remember it, which suggests this really is Ylisse.  
I am in what I have been led to believe is a fictional town.  
It is very much not a fictional town anymore, as I am standing in it.  
Holy shit! I’m in a Fire Emblem town!  
I don’t look like I normally do, and my clothes have definitely changed.  
However, I maintain the self-awareness to know I don’t normally belong here.  
This is starting to feel a little bit cliched. I hope the feeling doesn’t last.  
I have what I have now decided is a real healing staff.  
I woke up a healer? Lame.

Whenever I thought about what I would wanna do as an FE character, I always figured I’d be a merc. Good all-around stats, some of the game’s best skills, and they get _swords_. Sign me the hell up.

I let myself get distracted for a while, thinking on that, when a new thought hits me. When is this? The town looks intact, which means we aren’t under attack yet. But is that because this is early, or much later after rebuilding?

My question is answered when I hear a scream from somewhere on the other side of the river. A building starts to smoke and within moments is up in open flames. My legs don’t know what to do. About a minute later, I see a few men with axes storming up the street, chasing a small crowd of townsfolk to the north side of town. Before I have time to process what’s going on, I hear another crash to my left as more bandits enter from the southeast.

My legs decide what to do. I run as quickly as I can up the road, crossing the bridge and trying to draw as little attention as possible. As I do so, I start to realize what their idea seems to be. They’re funneling everyone into the large church on the north side of town, probably to keep them-

My thoughts were interrupted by a villager in front of my being shredded with wind magic. Crap, I forgot they have mages. That’s also a lot more blood than I was expecting. The same mage sends a blast at me. Before I can move, it hits me. However, I’m surprised to find that although I stagger a little, and my face gets a small cut or two, it doesn’t really hurt that much. Certainly not enough to slice and dice me like this poor guy in front of me.

“Haha, that’s right! Healers get super resistance!” I cheer, more to myself than anyone. Annoyed, he levels another wind blade in my direction. It too catches me, stinging a little but not putting me in real danger. Without thinking, I stalk over to him as he prepares another blast and, turning my staff over in my hands, hit him upside the head with the bottom end. Ooo, right in the temple. Yeah, he’s down. Probably alive, but not feeling too good. I didn’t know that was allowed, though. Did I break some rule by hitting him back? I don’t think healers are supposed to hit back.

Shrugging, I decide it’s probably best to hide until the Shepherds arrive. Aaaah, am I going to meet the Shepherds?? I take refuge behind a small retaining wall and watch cautiously as the overrunning of the town progresses. I consider trying to help the townsfolk, but decide I’m not much of a match for a large band of thieves just yet.

By the time the Shepherds arrive, the streets are mostly empty, with most of the townsfolk having been forced into the church to be presumably held hostage or sold or something. But arrive they do, and quickly make it clear they’re a force to be reckoned with. Seconds after Chrom comes into view, he relieves an unwary bandit of his head and continues to charge in.

“Oh,” I say out loud. “That’s not rated T at all.” The Shepherds fan out, with Frederick expertly corralling the bandits with his formidable lance into the central square, while Chrom stands ready to receive them with his gleaming blade and Robin provides covering fire with her Thunder tome. She looks pretty much like the default female model, far as I can tell. Wow, that hair is white.

I realize that this strategy puts a lot of faith in Chrom’s ability to take them down as they come to avoid getting overwhelmed. However, whenever Chrom doesn’t take one down right away, Robin is waiting in the wings to finish the job (no doubt hogging all the exp while she does so. I know I’m guilty of overpowering my Robin in the early game). I imagine that’s what a pair-up looks like in real life.

I reflect for a second on the use of the phrase ‘real life’ in describing what’s going on before me. My head still kind of hurts when I do that.

It looks like the fight is going well without me, but then a bandit slips past Frederick’s horse and moves to charge at Lissa, waiting in the wings to provide healing. I realize too late that he is going to get her before the others can stop him. I start running toward her, but he’s already getting ready to swing.

“Lissa, look out!” I cry as I sprint toward her. She turns toward me for a moment, searching for the source of the shout, but seeing me pointing behind her, turns just in time to raise her staff and almost block the strike. His axe is slowed but far from stopped, and she still receives a glancing blow on her shoulder. She cries out in pain, but in an instant Robin is there, stabbing the man through the abdomen.

Robin turns to me. “Who are you?” she asks.

I ponder for a moment. “A friend,” I eventually say. “Let me see her.” Lissa turns to me, and taking a closer look, her eyes light up.

“Oh, good. Another healer. It’s pretty stressful doing this on my own,” she says, wincing every few seconds at the pain of her shoulder wound but taking it generally like a trooper. She looks from me to the wound and back to me, an expectant look on her face.

I realize I don’t know how staves work. I hope it just kind of comes naturally. I hold the staff aloft, like I remember healers doing in-game, and mentally ask the staff to obey my commands, please. By a massive stroke of luck, it seems to react, with the orb shining and a soft ringing sound emitting from it. The faint tingling vibration intensifies, and somehow I know to point the staff at Lissa’s shoulder. I feel almost as though I am pushing the light out of the staff somehow; it’s pretty hard to explain. The light from the staff bounds out of the orb and encircles her, and after a few seconds it dissipates.

She grins at me. “Thanks!” she says, and we return to battle. Robin and Chrom seem totally unperturbed by my joining. I wonder if Robin thinks I know the rest of them. Now that there are two healers with the Shepherds, the battle becomes much easier. Each of us focuses on healing one of the pair, with Lissa handling Chrom’s wounds and me handling Robin’s. Frederick needs no help. He’s Frederick. With everyone at full fighting strength, no more of the enemy’s fighters break through the ranks until we reach the massive bridge at the center of town.

A large group of bandits stand together on the bridge, bracing for the Shepherds to meet them. A few myrmidons, a few fighters, and is that-

“Mage!” Robin calls too late as a blade of wind blasts toward us from behind the wall of bandits. I’ve only got a fraction of a second to act, but I manage just barely to jump headlong into the blast, allowing it to hit me and throw me backwards. Chrom and Lissa yell in surprise and alarm, but I quickly get up, with only a couple tiny cuts to show for it. High resistance is awesome.

Upon establishing I am okay, the group swiftly springs into action. Robin starts laying down lightning bolts across the line to throw the group in disarray and force them to break ranks, while Chrom and Frederick take advantage of the chaos by picking them off, one by one as they break away from the pack. Soon, we are down to the leader.

He proves a great deal tougher than his lackeys, dodging back and forth between both Frederick’s lunges and Chrom’s heavy swiping attacks. Wherever there’s an opening, Robin throws a Thunder bolt into the mix, but this guy proves surprisingly tough. I wonder faintly if we are in a Lunatic playthrough.

Suddenly, he rears back and flings his axe at Robin. I remember too late that he’s packing handaxes, and before I can react, it’s burrowed into her collarbone. My mind goes into overdrive, and I automatically sprint over to her, wrench out the axe, and point my staff at the wound. I’m lucky that healing comes naturally to me apparently, because even though I heal her quickly, that is still a lot of blood.

“Are you alright?” I ask, a little bit panicked.

She smirks. “Been better.” I decide that if she has the strength to snark, she’ll be fine. While she carefully gets to her feet, my arms are outstretched in case she falls from dizziness; she looks a little pale from here. As she steadies herself, she flashes a brief, grateful smile. She turns back to the fight, readying her tome. I watch her eyes widen-

“Look out!”

I cannot describe to you what it sounds like to me. To everyone else, it probably sounds like a _THWACK_ or a guttural _GHRACK_. To me, it goes beyond sound. I could swear I feel my brain squelch a little as it parts to make way for the axe now buried in it. It doesn’t hurt as much as I figured it might.

My left hand drifts up to the side of my head, gingerly touching the handle of the axe, probing to see how deeply it dug in. I realize my eyes aren’t doing what I want them to do anymore. I think one of them has shut off. My remaining eye tries to focus on Robin, but she’s moving too much.

“W-what…?” my mouth asks as my limbs stop obeying and I crumple to the ground. I always assumed a headshot meant instant death, but this is taking a while. I hear what I’m pretty sure are voices, but I can’t tell anymore. I decide to close the eye that I still control, maybe if I sleep a little bit this will all make sense.

* * *

 

When I wake up, I am surprised to find myself slumped over in a wildly uncomfortable barstool. Everything is exceedingly hazy, but through the haze I feel an ache through each of my poor vertebrae. How on earth had I fallen asleep in that position?

“How on earth did I…?”

Wait. Wait wait wait.

“How on earth did you what?” the bartender asks, cleaning a glass absently.

“I’ve…been here before…” I say slowly. I get up, and my spine pops and cracks as it stretches out.

“Have you? First time I’ve seen you in here, I’m fairly sure. You don’t look local,” the bartender replies. “Feeling better after your little snooze?”

What the hell? “Uh, yeah I guess. I came here with some supplies, didn’t I?” I ask. He nods, and ducks below the bar to hand me my supplies for the second time. “Thanks. I think I’m gonna...step out for a minute,” I say a little robotically.

I step outside and take a look around. Everything as it was. No overturned or destroyed stands. No burning buildings. No bandits. My hand drifts again to the side of my head. No wound.

Am I back in time? That seems to be the most reasonable solution. Which means…

Oh, shit. The bandits are still coming. Like, soon.

I sprint off toward the south, thinking I can hopefully get ahold of the Shepherds a little bit earlier and mitigate some of the damage I witnessed before. I remember the poor guy that got lacerated by the wind mage’s spell. If I can play a role in stopping that, I want to try.

I’ve passed by a few buildings, running as fast as this robe and my frankly-pretty-heavy pack allow, when I hear a voice call out after me.

“Hold up, there!” I try to ignore it and keep going, but as I round the corner of a building I suddenly find myself face-to-face with a massive, twitchy wall of a man. He pushes me backwards, and I trip on an uneven cobblestone and fall on my ass. “I said, hold up. Didn’tcha hear me?” the voice says. I turn my head to face him and find myself looking at the point of a myrmidon’s sword. “I asked you a question.”

“W-well, to be honest, I didn’t think you meant me,” I say. “I don’t know you, so I figured-” the blade shifts an inch closer to my face and I stop talking.

“And here I was hoping we could be friends. Don’tcha wanna be friends?” the myrmidon asks, and the four or so bandits with him all chuckle.

I consider for a moment. There’s not really a way out either way. I think briefly about the axe. What I felt before as I…

I don’t wanna do that again. I really don’t. That was awful. “Sure!” I say a little too loudly. “I mean, what do your friends do?”

The myrmidon squats, getting his face right up in mine. “They drop all their gods-damned valuables and do what they’re told,” he says quietly.

My stomach drops a little, I am ashamed to admit. This guy’s like what, level 1? Maybe 2? And I’m getting schooled here. “I don’t know that I have much in the way of value,” I say.

“The staff will do,” he replies, standing up again. I feel the faint tingling of the staff in my hand. It’s my lifeline here. This is how I am going to get in with the Shepherds, I can tell. Without this, I don’t have much going for me right now. I can’t lose this staff.

But if I don’t give it up, I’m going to die. Again. The seconds I spend considering it feel like an eternity.

“...I think I’d rather bump uglies with an anthill,” I say, looking him in the eye and starting to get up. I don’t make it very far before I am shoved back down by Big n’ Twitchy. The myrmidon is startled; I can tell he isn’t used to being contradicted. Putting on the bravest grin I can manage, I flick up the back end of the staff and give a whack to the big guy’s groin. As he doubles over in pain, the other three are on me instantly, kicking and stomping.

Holy hell this is so much worse than the first time. This isn’t quick. This hurts more than I figured it would. One of them stomps on my hand and I feel my fingers give way under his boot. My ribs and legs take kick after kick, and it’s coming from so many directions at once that I can’t even register where they are. Especially after one of them kicks the back of my head so hard that my vision mostly cuts out. Soon I lose track of time. The only thing that’s real is feeling my limbs and torso get crushed with blow after blow.

After some amount of time (was it a minute? 5? 20?), they stop. It almost gets worse when they stop, because my brain can’t help but start cataloguing the damage, and hoo boy does it find a lot to take note of.

“See you in hell, pal,” a voice says, and I feel my throat get opened up by a quick slice. Everything starts fading pretty fast after that.

* * *

 

When I wake up, I am unsurprised to find myself slumped over in a wildly uncomfortable barstool. Everything is exceedingly hazy, but through the haze I feel an ache through each of my poor vertebrae. _How_ on earth had I fallen asleep in that position?

I slowly stand up, stretch a little, and sigh.

“This is gonna be my whole day, isn’t it?” I ask the bartender, who looks at me like I’m crazy. Eh, I probably will be soon enough.


	2. Ch 2: Things Get Medical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero helps stop some bandits and sets himself on fire.

**Birth and Re-Death**

 

**Chapter 2: Things Get Medical**

 

You know, I’m actually pretty surprised at how the battle goes the third time around. I guess I figured that it would go basically the same way, like maybe I was stuck in a sort of loop and the only things that change are what I change myself, but even without my intervention the Shepherds have a different structure to the fight. Instead of providing cover fire as she did before, Robin is much more aggressive with her tome and sword, fighting alongside Chrom rather than behind him. Frederick is doing less actual attacking as much as running a sort of interference/intimidation game to stir them up and make them vulnerable to the dynamic duo over there. Lissa seems to have less work to do this time around.

 

I decide I don’t want to be lame and hide until someone gets hurt this time, so I run out and shout, “Hey! I’m a friendly!” Robin, the closer of the two, whirls around toward my voice, hand raised to blast me. Despite myself, I flinch. What? The look in her face when she fights is scary, okay? Anyway, she lowers her arm on getting a better look at me, no doubt dismissing my ability to be a threat.

 

“You a healer?” she asks, no longer looking at me but rather asking that in the middle of perforating a guy with Thunder bolt. I shout in the affirmative. “Good, then you’re on me. Lissa, focus on Chrom!” I fall in line behind her, but with the distance she is keeping between herself and the baddies with that tome of hers, I don’t get much action. That is, until a pair of mages rear their ugly heads.

 

Each of them level a wind blast at Robin at the same time. I cry out in warning, but I’m only able to stop one of them. Even taking one blast throws me back a few feet and onto my ass. Robin, meanwhile, earns herself a few pretty deep cuts to the chest and arms. As quickly as I can, I heal up her wounds. By the way, it’s really trippy to watch skin un-separate itself. It also looks like it hurts like hell. I stalk over to one of the mages and realize this isn’t the first time I’ve fought this guy. Because old habits die hard, I strike him in the temple with my staff again. I won’t lie; it’s pretty funny the second time. Robin looks at my chuckling self with alarm for a moment, but soon we are back at it.

 

I notice that although their initial strategy was different, we sort of end up in the same formation as we did the first time. I guess there’s not much room for variability on a battleground consisting of one town square and one bridge. Speaking of bridge, here we are, and the battle is once again going pretty well. Lissa is handling Chrom and Frederick just fine, and on the rare occasions that Robin takes a significant hit I find it pretty easy to keep her in fighting shape. Before long, we are once again staring down the leader.

 

“Keep an eye on that axe,” I say in a low voice. “Looks light enough to throw as well as swing.” Chrom and Robin nod, and each of them take a side and try to flank him. The battle quickly develops beyond my ability to intervene helpfully; getting that close is just asking for another brain dissection.

 

I grab Lissa’s shoulder. “We should stand back a little ways, in case things get out of hand,” I say, pulling her away from the fight.

 

She protests, “But if one of them gets hurt, we have to help!” She tries to shrug me off, but I’m not playing that game again.

 

“Nope. We can heal them up all we want once they’re done with him,” I reply, firmly keeping her a decent distance from the fight and always watching what his axe is up to. Robin is keeping the bandit on his toes pretty skillfully, and it looks like it’s taking everything he has just to keep up with the pair of them. Frederick circles the fight but can’t find an opening that won’t just mess up the pair’s dynamic.

 

The leader raises his axe to bring it down hard on Robin, but before he can, she shoots a bolt at the axe and blasts it from his grasp. That should be the ballgame, I think, but then his free hand is reaching behind his back and suddenly a second axe is swinging upwards at Robin’s face–

 

_ CLANG _ . Chrom’s sword catches the swing and bats it down just in time. It still hits Robin’s leg, but it’s no longer the lethal blow it could have been. Meanwhile, she’s gritting her teeth through the pain and grabbing the man’s face, letting loose a blast from such short range I don’t think the term point-blank does it justice. About a second later, there’s not really a face left to grab. The remains collapse, leaving the axe still embedded in Robin’s leg.

 

Wow, if the ESRB saw some of that, an M rating would have been merciful, I think to myself as I run over to the wounded tactician. “Jesus, you really went all out there, Tarantino,” I say as I examine the wound.

 

“That’s…not my name,” she says without opening her teeth. “Neither of those are.” I realize I’m going to have a tough time adjusting around here for a bit.

 

With my staff ready to roll, I take hold of the axe. “Ready?” I ask.

 

“For what?” she asks, a little delirious from the pain and adrenaline no doubt. A pang of guilt shoots through me for what I’m about to have to do.

 

“Deep breath,” I warn, and after a beat passes, I wrench the blade out. Wow that’s pretty medical. By which I mean blood is everywhere. Must’ve hit a vein or something; it’s a good thing we can fix that up basically instantly. I was expecting a lot of screaming from her, but apart from some loud groaning she takes it like a champ. Lissa and I both point our staves at the wound and close it up. I glance at Lissa while we are doing this, and she seems mostly unphased by it. I guess despite the cutesy exterior, she’s seen some real shit like this before.

 

After a moment, Robin has caught her breath. “...Thank you,” she says to the pair of us. Lissa grins at her, and I give a small bow.

 

I turn to Chrom, who with Frederick has been checking on the villagers but is just now getting back. “So, I take it you’re the leader around here?” I ask.

 

He nods. “That’s right. My name is Chrom, and I lead the Shepherds. This is my knight, Sir Frederick, and this is my sister Lissa. The woman you just saved is our newest recruit, Robin.”

 

I hear Robin stir behind me. “Wait. So you don’t know this man?” she asks, gesturing to me.

 

Chrom is silent for a moment, then laughs lightly. “I guess you wouldn’t know, huh? No, we’ve never met him.” He turns to me. “What is your name, priest?”

 

Oh, crap. Should I tell him my actual name? Is that weird? I guess anything else could be just as weird. Fire Emblem is kinda one of those Aerith and Bob things, where any name goes, now that I think about it. I realize I’ve kept Chrom waiting a weirdly long time to hear my name.

 

“Well, I’m not really a priest, per se...but my name is Randall,” I say, the name feeling weird in my mouth in this context. “Some prefer to call me Randy,” I add.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Randall,” Chrom says, extending a hand. I take it and wow, that’s a firm handshake. “Though I wish it could have been under more peaceful circumstances.”

 

“You’re telling me,” I say with a sigh. “I’ve never actually used a staff in real combat before,” I admit.

 

“Mister Randall,” Frederick says, stepping closer, “Not that I wish to pry, but I must ask. What did you mean by saying you’re not really a priest, when you wear that garb and take on a priest’s healing duties?” It figures Frederick would be the one to try and poke holes in my fake backstory.

 

“Well, I was raised in a monastery, and I was taught the healing arts by the monks that live there, but I never took any vows of my own or became a priest in any official sense. I just wear the robes because it’s what they had there,” I say, making it up as I go. “They were sad to see me go, but they didn’t try to stop me from venturing out.”

 

“Where is this monastery?” Frederick asks.

 

“Oh, uh, it’s not on this continent. I grew up in Valm,” I say. “The country, I mean. Pretty tiny country, really, despite that the giant continent it named after it.” Frederick gives a sort of grudging ‘hmph’ and resumes dealing with the village elders.

 

“Don’t mind Frederick too much,” Chrom says with a well-meaning smile, “there’s a reason he earned the title Frederick the Wary.”

 

“No offense given, none taken,” I reply. “But I am wondering, is there by any chance room among your number for another healer?” I look at him with pleading eyes.

 

“Of course,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder, “not only are you a decent healer, but I saw what you did to that mage. You keep your head on straight in battle, and we need as many people like that as we can get. But are you sure that’s what you want? It’s a dangerous job.”

 

“So is wandering around the country with nothing but some camping supplies and a very shiny staff that basically announces, ‘Please rob me,’ so I think I know which option I’m picking,” I say gratefully.

 

Chrom gives a good-natured chuckle. “That’s fair. Welcome aboard, Randall,” he says, and just like that I’m a Shepherd. A hot ball of excitement wells up in my throat and I have to fight to keep it down, probably making me look a little like a lunatic. But can you blame me? I played through the game quite a few times, so I already feel a strong connection to this case, and more importantly, I’ve already  _ died _ for this team.  _ Twice _ . So even though they don’t know it, I’ve already got a deep investment in this.

 

Suddenly, Lissa. Wow, I hadn’t noticed earlier, but she’s really not that tall. “So, Randy? Nice to meetcha! Thanks for your help earlier!” She grins, and it’s like a knockout punch. Three precious five me.

 

“Bah, it was nothing. Just doing what I can,” I say a little sheepishly. I’m not used to direct praise like that.

 

“Give yourself more credit,” says Robin, who’s now officially up and about. “You saved me more than once out there.”   
  


“It was you, Chrom, and Frederick that were really cleaning up out there, though,” I say. “Not much credit necessary.”

 

“Hey!” Lissa protests. “Are you saying healers aren’t valuable??” She pouts at me.

 

“Of course not, just that they aren’t usually the ones that get songs written about them,” I reply, unable to resist the urge to pat her head at the same time. She may be a princess, but for now I can pretend I don’t know that.

 

Her pout intensifies. “Well, I think we’re plenty useful.” I smile a little evilly at her expression.

 

We are interrupted by one of the villagers coming by and asking if we would stay the night. As much as I really don’t like sleeping out with insects and stuff, I am also aware that for the game’s events to happen we have to get out of town. So despite my desire to side with Lissa in the Great Dark Meat Debate, I bite my tongue and allow Chrom and Frederick to lead us out of Southtown.

 

* * *

 

I’m not sure how to describe the taste of bear. It’s of course really gamey, but it’s just difficult to nail down any other adjectives to describe its taste. Surprisingly, I actually enjoy it quite a bit. Maybe not as much as Robin—good lord is she scarfing that down—but it’s still decent. My heart does go out to Lissa and Frederick though, as neither of them eat much that night. In the meantime, I pretend to learn a lot of things I already know: where we are, what Plegia is and how that dynamic is deteriorating, etc. Despite that I knew all of this in advance, it’s still kind of cool to hear it out of Chrom and Frederick’s mouths.

 

Before too long, though, exhaustion takes over. Maybe it’s the bear. Either way, I make quick work of setting up my tent (Eagle Scout, what’s up?) and roll out my bedroll on the ground. As I’m getting settled into my surprisingly comfy bedroll, I hear Lissa air some more grievances.

 

“How come Randy gets a tent and we don’t?” she asks incredulously.

 

“Because he brought one,” replies Chrom simply. “If you wanted a tent, we had some you could have brought easily.”

 

“But that would have meant  _ carrying _ it!” she counters.

 

“You mean like Randall carried his?”

 

“Hmph.” I hear footsteps approach the tent. “Randyyyy, is there room in there for one more?” Lissa asks. Ooooh no no, I am not playing that game. Fortunately, Chrom intervenes.

 

“Lissa, you can’t just impose on him like that. That’s pretty clearly a one-person tent,” Chrom admonishes.

 

My better nature takes over. I climb out of the tent and tell Lissa, “Look, he’s right about the size, but if you want, I’ve got no problem out under the stars.”

 

Chrom raises a hand dismissively. “No chance, Randall. She’s gotta learn a little about action and consequence. Don’t bring a tent, don’t get a tent.” Lissa looks like she might cry.

 

Instead, she punches Chrom in the shoulder. “Jerk,” she growls, and stalks off. Chrom gives me an apologetic look and retires to his own bedroll, rubbing his shoulder a little.

 

After a few minutes, I’m satisfied that Chrom has gone to sleep. I step over to where Lissa is sleeping by the dying fire, tossing and turning to try and find a comfortable position. I crouch and lightly tap her on the shoulder. She whirls around on the ground to look at me. With a small smile, I nod toward the empty tent. Her eyes light up, but she’s smart enough not to say anything. As she gets up, I drag my bedroll out of the tent and set it not far from the other three of us. I settle in and, despite the bugs, I find myself so exhausted it only takes a minute or so to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

_ Rustle, rustle, grunt. _

 

My eyes snap open, and after a few seconds I remember where I am. I look to see what the noise was and notice Chrom getting up and stretching a little as he straps on Falchion to his waist. That’s right. It’s the night the Risen show up.

 

He looks over at me, then does a double-take. “Why aren’t you in the tent?” he mouths. I shrug and imitate a pouting face. He rolls his eyes and begins walking away. I grab my staff and follow after him.

 

“Can’t sleep, cap’n?” I ask once we are a decent distance away.

 

“No,” he admits. “I just get the sense that something’s off around here.” Oh boy Chrom, if you only knew.

 

We walk for a while in silence. It’s pretty nice out, if a little humid for my tastes. Before too long, though, the ground shakes a little. Then a little more. It starts getting louder and more intense by the second. Here we go. The ground opens up and fire and lava start pouring out ahead of us.

 

“Randall, run,” Chrom says. Wait, am I Lissa? “I mean it,  _ go _ !” We take off running, dodging falling fireballs left and right. That lava feels really hot, even from this distance. I see Chrom jump off a small ledge ahead of me, and I rush forward to follow. However, just as I am starting to jump, I feel a massive wave of heat and pain wash over me.

 

I fall off the ledge and onto my face. Within a second I realize I must have been hit by one of them. Is that what burning flesh smells like? Christ, that’s horrifying. I start to try and crawl away, but Chrom hasn’t noticed I’m not behind him yet.

 

The lava begins to spill over the ledge, and I am nowhere near fast enough to outpace it. After a moment, I see Chrom rushing back to me through the now-flaming trees. However, he’s not fast enough, and my brain lights up in panic as the lava starts overtaking my legs.

 

I would say it’s painful, but only for a second. After that, the nerves get burned so quickly they cease to function at all. My brain is aware I’m getting swallowed by heat, but the pain function shuts off pretty quickly. The last thing I see before the heat renders my eyes useless is Chrom standing helplessly on the other side of the lava wave, watching me get swallowed by fire and molten rock.

 

* * *

 

_ Rustle, rustle, grunt _ .

 

My eyes snap open, and I am instantly relieved to be here. Updating save points are the best. I decide to feign sleep while Chrom gets ready to head out. However, after a little bit I realize Lissa isn’t going with him. I rush over to the tent and shake the snoring Lissa awake.

 

“Whuh-what? Izzit breakfas’ already?” Lissa moans.

 

“No, it’s still night. But I think we’re in trouble,” I say, making it up as I go. “Chrom noticed that I let you have the tent and he looked pretty peeved; I think you should go talk to him.”

 

“No waaay, it’s fine. I’ll talk to him in the morning,” she responds.

 

“Lissa, please. I’m new here and I don’t want the boss angry with me,” I plead.

 

After a few moments, she stirs with a groan and slowly gets to her feet. “Fine, but you owe me,” she says sleepily.

 

“Says the one who slept in my tent,” I retort with a raised brow.

 

“...Point,” she says, and after I point her in the right direction she heads off.

 

I consider going back to sleep, but considering how little time is left before things start moving, I decide against it. Instead, I quietly pack up the tent and the rest of my supplies and get them all ready to move. Moments later, I smell smoke on the wind.

 

I shake Robin awake, but before I have time to get to Frederick he is instantly standing, with his bedroll miraculously rolled up before he has even picked it up. I decide to not ask questions and simply accept that he is Frederick.

 

He leads us in the direction of the fire, and soon enough we meet with the rest of the crew. Oh, hi Lucina. Wow, that’s more Risen than I remember fighting in the game. They move really weirdly, now that I am seeing them in action. Like they can’t run properly, but they still try, and it’s kind of like they’re running with legs of two different lengths. It must be pretty uncomfortable to be one of them.

 

I turn to Robin, “So, tactician lady, what do?”

 

“Alright, everyone,” she begins. “To win this, we can’t be reckless. We are going for fort control, and hopefully we can funnel them in and take them out in manageable chunks. Don’t underestimate the archers they have with them, though, even if you’re in a fort safely. Try to draw them in as well. Chrom, you will go with Randall to take the north fort and act as an enticing draw. Lissa and Frederick, you will go with me to take the southern fort. Hopefully once we control both we can split up their forces and disorient them. Let’s move.”

 

Chrom and I make a run for the north fort, which is frankly smaller than I imagined. It’s essentially a glorified supply post surrounded by four stone walls, but it will still get the job done. As we run, Chrom comments, “So, you let Lissa have the tent after all, huh?”

 

“Look, I know you’re her brother and it doesn’t work on you, but the average man cannot say no to that face,” I say defensively.

 

“Right. Don’t flirt with her,” Chrom warns, and I consider responding but decide against it. Soon we are ready and waiting inside the fort walls, watching the oncoming swath of Risen coming closer and closer.

 

This looks like it might hurt.


	3. Ch 3: Big Trouble in Little Country

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our hero makes some new friends, and one of them invades his bedroom.

**Birth and Re-Death**

 

**Chapter 3: Big Trouble in Little Country**

 

What they have in numbers, they lack in basically everything else, we find. They are reckless, but to a skilled warrior like Chrom all that means is that the gaps in their attacks are easy to exploit. The only catch is if too many of them attack at once. There are a few occasions where I’m concerned we are about to get overrun, but then either Chrom turns the tide or I do something to help, like clumsily stabbing at one with a spear I find among the fort’s supplies.

 

Still, there’s only so much we can do before we have to pull back to the supply building itself. Though fortunately there is only one door and no windows, cutting off their means of surrounding us inside, there’s also only one door and no windows, meaning we have effectively cornered ourselves. I bolster Chrom with the occasional healing move, but for the most part I find I can’t help much. While he cuts down Risen after Risen, I rummage through the supplies in the building to see what we can make use of. I find some vulneraries, a few old swords, some clothes, and not much else.

 

Suddenly, arrows start lodging themselves in the doorframe. Right, Robin mentioned they’d have archers. Based on the angle of the shots, it looks like they’ve climbed the walls and are shooting down into the building, either trying for a pot shot or just keeping us pinned. Regardless, Chrom at least has the good sense to back up enough to avoid being fired on, but as a result he has to work even harder to keep them from spilling into the building and surrounding us. He’s having to work a much wider angle, and though he’s a champion among men, this is just too much. Occasionally I throw in a haphazard sword stab with one of the swords I find in the back of the building. I don’t think it’s helping much.

 

“Balls,” I say more to myself than anyone. In the meantime, the herd doesn’t seem to be thinning much, which worries me. Despite frequent healing, I can tell Chrom is losing steam pretty quickly. If something doesn’t change here soon, we are gonna be up shit creek without a paddle.

 

Then, as if responding to my prayers, the arrow barrage slows and then stops within seconds. Not long after, the Risen in the doorway begin to press forward with less force than before. With the decrease in pressure, Chrom ups his intensity and pushes back, while more and more Risen fall from seemingly unrelated causes. After a moment, I notice the arrows in the back of their heads. It seems Virion has arrived, and not a moment too soon.

 

From there, Chrom and Virion make quick work of the enemy, while Sully rides in and disrupts the herd, forcing it into smaller, more easily downed chunks. In minutes, we are finished. After I give everyone a superficial healing, Sully delivers her report.

 

“The south fort is cleared already, Captain,” she says. “Whoever that new recruit is of yours, she’s pretty sharp. They barely needed any help from us.” I’m a little embarrassed we needed that much help, but Chrom seems unperturbed.

 

“I take it that’s truly the last of them, then?” Chrom asks, stretching a little after I heal the cuts on his arms.

 

“As far as I can tell. But man, were there a lot of the bastards. I will begrudgingly admit it was a good thing we had this fruit with us,” Sully says, jerking a thumb toward Virion.

 

He bows magnanimously, a smirk that I can only describe as “wealthy, handsome, skilled, and aware of it” adorning his face. “Greetings, my gentle lords. I am known as the humble archer Virion, at your service. It is my disti–”

 

“I think we get it, er, Virion,” Chrom cuts him off. “Thank you for your help; we were in a pretty tight spot there.”

 

“No thanks necessary, my lord, except to hear a humble archer’s request. Long have I walked this land with no employ or aid to call my own, yet I can see here a noble company of warriors who fight the forces of evil. Might I be so bold as to request admittance into the fold?” Virion asks, stepping forward.

 

“Oh, really? I’m surprised you’d want to join our little ragtag group,” Chrom says, eyebrows raised. “But if that’s really what you’re after, then we’d be glad to have you. We’ve long needed help in our ranged attack strategy.”

 

“A thousand thanks, my lord, erm…”

 

“You can call me Chrom. And no thanks necessary.”

 

“Ah, pardon. Lord Chrom,” Virion says, bowing cordially. “And what is your name, sir?” he asks, turning to me.

 

For a moment I had forgotten that I was there too, weirdly. “Oh! I’m Randall,” I say, extending a hand. He shakes it, a textbook-perfect Cotillion handshake. I’m quite impressed, actually. I take another look in the man’s face, and I see something in those eyes that I didn’t really perceive in the in-game sprites: this is one clever guy. His eyes are constantly searching, surveying and attempting to understand everything around them. I can see why he’s such a skilled archer. Not much escapes that gaze. It's no surprise Frederick finds him suspicious in their supports.

 

“Mister Randall! Most pleased to make your acquaintance,” he says with a winning smile. “I’m sure we will be fast friends.” We leave to join up with the others, who are finishing up the post-battle healing at the other fort. Standing not far off from them is Lucina, looking particularly serious and somber in that slick mask of hers. I wonder if the others have even tried to talk with her yet, or if they just wanted to wait on Chrom.

 

In either case, as we approach, Lissa springs to her feet and gives Chrom a quick but clearly very tight hug. I, to my surprise, get the same, and it is indeed very tight. “We were so worried about you guys! When Robin started laying down magical attacks, the bulk of them went off toward you two, but we were still pinned by the ones here. It’s a good thing Sully came back when she did!”

 

“Though to be honest, all we did was help a little with cleanup,” says Sully modestly. “Looked like you were holding your own pretty well there, Captain.” The pair of them take turns trying to give each other the credit for the win, while Virion waits expectantly for one of them to credit him.

 

Deciding to throw the guy a bone, I offer up, “Well, without the help of Virion’s skill here, we certainly would’ve been in a tight spot. I saw what you must’ve done to that archer company on top of the walls.”

 

His eyes light up like Christmas has arrived early. “I certainly cannot acce–”

 

Lucina interrupts him, launching into her warning about the coming perils that the world will face. To be honest, I don’t listen very carefully. After you read the in-game dialogue enough times, it kind of loses its impact, even if it’s being spoken right in front of you. She also introduces herself as Marth. That’s right! I’m supposed to be thinking of her as some mystery man. Wow, it’s been years since I’ve been outside the loop on that little tidbit. I stare at her for a few seconds, wondering how on earth anyone isn’t seeing that this is clearly a woman. A-cup angst or no, her voice and body language should be dead giveaways. Part of me wonders if it wouldn’t be more interesting to follow her around until she joins up, see what she gets up to in the war’s early days. I ultimately decide against it, narrowly, figuring that I already am where I’m needed. Anyway, Marth turns to leave, with Lissa sputtering “What’s teetering where now?” in her wake. Moments later, she’s gone, seemingly out of nowhere. That really is impressive. I should get her to teach me that one.

 

“He certainly was skilled. I wonder what motivates the mask...” Robin muses. I myself wonder faintly if she might be talking about her own daughter without knowing it, but that’s getting ahead of myself for sure.

 

After that, things generally calm down. Well, except for the fiery natural disaster taking place all around us. But there’s not a lot we can do about that, and actually it seems to be mostly calming down. That’s good, if a bit weird. I guess a forest can only burn so much before the fire runs out of fuel. Also, it seems like the ground plates have more or less slid back into place now that the portal is closed. Closed, but still clearly there, though. That’s unnerving.

 

* * *

 

It’s doubly unnerving the next day when we see more of them on the trip north to Yllistol. I know that of course, there must have always been more, but seeing them like this is just different. I guess in the game the Risen always seemed like helpful grinding tools. Here, they’re a constant threat, and there’s no real knowing when one might open up. I try not to think about it too much.

 

I can tell, though, that it’s on everyone’s mind. They’re all keeping a very close eye on each portal as we pass them, regarding them suspiciously. Honestly, it’s a little adorable when Lissa does it, as I doubt she could look truly menacing to save her life, so instead it’s just a narrow-eyed frown-pout.

 

The conversation takes a backseat to the vigilance, so the trip is mostly silent, even from the likes of Virion. It’s already a change in tone from what I remember about the beginning of the story, but I don’t feel like it’s my place to try and break the silence. Eventually, though, I find I’m going insane just walking in silence like this, so I jog up to the front, where Robin and Sully are walking together.

 

I lightly tap Robin on the shoulder, and she jumps in surprise, then shoots me an embarrassed glare. I grin in spite of myself. “So, boss lady, what’s on the brain?” I ask.

 

After rolling her eyes at the moniker I’ve given her, she replies, “I’m thinking about these creatures we were fighting. They obviously aren’t human, but if these portals we’ve been passing are any indication, we will need to know the best ways to fight them, because we haven’t seen the last of them. I think that…” She pauses. “No, I don’t want to bore you.”

 

“Are you kidding?” I respond quickly. “This is, by far, the least bored I’ve been since we started marching. Please, for the love of God, er, the gods, keep talking.”

 

She raises a brow. “I take it you’re the extroverted type then.” I nod sheepishly. She sighs. “Alright. Based on the limited experience we have with them so far, I think the best weakness to exploit is going to be their movement. Their strength is no joke, but they’re none too quick and even less agile. I’m thinking the most effective way to take them out is going to be to fight them in small, maneuverable groups that can corner them and get the drop on them. The reason we struggled in the clearing is because we allowed ourselves to become sedentary, meaning they could swarm and we couldn’t take advantage of their speed deficiency. That error on my part almost got you and Chrom killed.” I notice her facial expression change a little, but it’s subtle. “I don’t want any errors like that again. They won’t happen.”

 

“You’re always three steps ahead, huh?” I ask, grinning inwardly at the reference.

 

“Yes, exactly!” she replies. “It’s going to be harder with the addition of two more variables, but I just have to keep a level head at all times.” I could swear I can see the gears turning. She really is always planning for the next threat. Oh Robin, how will you ever last when real war rears its ugly head?

 

I turn to Sully, who is walking like the rest of us and letting her horse have a rest. When the horse realizes I’m looking at his master, I think I see him narrow his eyes suspiciously. Might just be my imagination, but I doubt it. “So, Sully. You get visits from purple miasma monsters very often?”

 

Not taking her eyes off the portal off a little ways to the east, she replies, “Not that I’m aware of. That’s a new one. But we’ve proven that they  _ can _ be killed, and that’s all I need to know. Anything else, I leave to Chrom.”

 

“That’s a lot of loyalty. I can respect that,” I say, nodding approvingly.

 

“Har! You’d better, Mister Priest!” Sully bellows confidently. “I'll be out there protecting your squishy arse, after all.”

 

“Hey now, maybe a little deference for the guy who puts the pieces back together when you’re done thrashing yourself for loyalty’s sake,” I say mock-defensively. “If it weren’t for the likes of Lissa and me, your loyalty would no doubt be much shorter-lived.”

 

She scoffs. “As if I let the enemy hit me badly enough to need it.”

 

“Oh, well now I’ve gotta call bull,” I protest. “You’re good on that horse, but no one is that good.”

 

“Actually,” I hear from behind me, “she’s right.” I whirl around to face Lissa. “I haven’t needed to heal her in probably, what, two and a half years by now?”

 

Sully laughs as I take a few steps away from her scary ass and keep a respectable distance thereafter. Robin might be smart as hell and make me feel comparatively dim, but she doesn’t make me fear for my safety.

 

* * *

 

Wow, Ylisstol is a pretty city. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a place that looked so...glowy. Not shiny, like a modern city, but like the whole city is just teeming with good-guyness. Frederick points out that the capital has been spared the disasters we saw farther south, and I realize it really has been a while since we’ve seen one of those ominous sky-eyeballs. Skyballs. Heh.

 

A group of what look like pegasus knights rounds a corner up ahead and starts walking down the middle of the street, prompting the crowds to make way. Following behind them is Emmeryn, looking every bit the radiant ruler. She carries herself so daintily I’m afraid a slight breeze would send her toppling over.

 

“Is it really safe for her to walk among the crowds like this?” I hear Robin asking Chrom. Chrom attempts to reassure her with talk of how she keeps the peace, and though she replies as if she’s been placated, I can tell the lingering worry hasn't left her eyes. I feel kind of bad for her; she wakes up from amnesia and is almost instantly thrust into battle. She must worry that’s what life is always like here. And knowing what’s coming eventually, I can’t even tell her she’s wrong to worry that way.

 

The moment that Robin learns Chrom and Lissa are royalty is priceless, and my only regret is I don’t have a camera to capture the moment for posterity. For my part, I whirl around dramatically toward the healer princess and cry, “Thou art  _ royalty _ ?? But I’ve been so  _ forward _ with thee, Milady! How ever will I live down the shame of my misconduct!” She giggles when I drop to my knees in mock horror.

 

“Oh please, there wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in that apology,” she says in a hoity-toity accent. “I’m afraid you’ll have to work  _ much _ harder than that to make it up to me. Mayhaps an apology cake or pie will suffice?”

 

“Right,” I say, grinning and ruffling her hair as I get up. “We’ll have to see about that.”

 

My fun is interrupted by the small blonde pushing me in the direction of the Exalt’s palace, and I realize the rest of the party has begun heading that way. In a few moments, we are caught up and pass through the gate as a group. Chrom is let in instantly, and even Virion, Robin, and I are not given real scrutiny as we enter. The security around here must be pretty lax, huh? No wonder a band of several dozen assassins isn’t going to have trouble storming the place later on. No, no, don’t think about that right now. That’s for another day. Unless…

 

Maybe I can make some real changes? Knowing what I know about what’s coming, with some careful planning I could save everyone some heartache. But what changes would actually help..?

 

While I’m wondering that to myself, we arrive in the throne room, where Emmeryn greets us. I’m content to stand in the back with Virion for this part, looking around and taking in the sights. The Exalted family really likes blue and gold, I decide as I struggle to find any decoration that isn’t one or both of those colors. I notice a portrait on the wall opposite the throne.

 

The portrait features an imposing-looking man in his early middle age. Like Chrom, he’s got blue hair, but it’s closely cut. He’s also got a carefully sculpted, slightly pointed goatee. His eyes are hard and gold, and his brow is fixed in a harsh stare. His outfit is regal, pretty closely resembling Chrom’s Great Lord armor but with a massive cape sporting a thick fur collar on it. Falchion rests in his right hand, pointed down. I realize I must be looking at the Exalted family’s father.

 

It’s hard to tell, but from here I can just barely perceive cuts and scratches in the portrait. It must not have fared well when the people turned against him. I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t like it being left up even now, considering his reputation. I wonder why Emmeryn bothers with it.

 

While I’m gazing at the portrait, I hear Virion clear his throat. I turn to face him, and he motions with his head for me to follow him, and I can see past him that Lissa is leading Robin out of the throne room. Must be time to meet the other Shepherds.

 

* * *

 

“What’s good, party people?” I call out as we stride into the barracks. Vaike and Sumia are standing in the entry area when we come in, and on hearing us enter Maribelle rushes in as well. When she’s finished airing her grievances about her fourteen new grey hairs, Lissa takes over.

 

“Everyone, these are some new recruits to the Shepherds! Our newest healer here is Randy, the man in the bib is Virion,” (he looked extremely indignant at that comment) “and this is our new tactician, Robin! You should see all the tricks she's got up her sleeve!”

 

“Oh yeah? Well can she do this?” Vaike demands, and I decide in the microsecond preceding the impending belch that I’m going to act like it’s not obviously hilarious, so as to get some brownie points with Maribelle, but then the belch itself happens. Oh my god. I can’t pretend that wasn’t amazing. Humans shouldn’t be able to store that much air in their lungs to begin with. It’s pretty much the best thing I’ve seen since I joined up.

 

“That’s pretty much the best thing I’ve seen since I joined up,” I say with reverence, shaking his hand. I turn briefly to Maribelle and mouth, “I’m sorry.”

 

Sure enough, she puffs up in disgust. “Ugh! Must you baseborn oafs pollute even the air with your buffoonery? And you, Randy! As a man of the cloth, I would have hoped you were of a more mature stock.” Wait, what the hell? Isn’t she supposed to get on Robin’s case? Why me?

 

I decide it’s time to stand up for myself. I turn away from the others and face Maribelle. “Well in point of fact, I’m no priest. I just like the outfits they get to wear. Also, the gods made our bodies to work as they do, belches and all. So it’s natural, and indeed a testament to the greatness of the gods, to belch like a madman when the opportunity arises.” When I’m finished, I hold up my hand behind me, and mercifully Vaike knows exactly what I’m after and gives me a gloriously painful high-five. Christ, the man is strong. Worth it.

 

She makes a sound that’s not unlike a growl, and stalks off. I’m a little bit bummed that I’ve made such a shoddy first impression on the troubadour, but there’s not much I can do. Meanwhile, Vaike steps in front of me, a massive grin on his face.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone give Maribelle that kind of backtalk! The Vaike is impressed...and worried for your safety,” he says with a laugh. I laugh in return, but only on the outside; I too am a little worried after seeing the fire in her eyes.

 

“A-anyway! You three are new to the Shepherds, right? We’ve still got plenty of bedchambers available, so let me show you to them,” Sumia interjects, and at the mention of the word ‘bed’ I am at her beck and call. The three of us follow her while she tells us about the barracks. Things like where the food is stored, where extra arms are kept, that sort of thing. But finally we get to the part I’ve been waiting for: real beds.

 

I’m surprised there are enough rooms for everyone to have their own, even if the rooms themselves are pretty small. Sumia explains that the Shepherds are fairly understaffed in recent years, because the years of peace ushered in by Emmeryn have made a large military unnecessary. These barracks are a remnant of the days when Ylisse was a massive military power, though recent unrest in the west has prompted Chrom to start recruiting again.

 

Satisfied with that answer, I flop down on a bed and involuntarily groan as several days’ (and several deaths’) worth of tension leaves my body. “Oh my gods, you have no idea how great this is,” I say to nobody in particular.

 

Then, we hear a door downstairs open, and Chrom’s strong, clear voice rings out, “Anyone home?” We all move back downstairs, where Chrom is waiting. Stahl emerges from what I assume is the kitchen, followed by Miriel, which kind of surprises me because I figured we wouldn’t meet until later. After a moment, Maribelle appears in the room as well, very apparently not looking at me. Ugh, this blows.

 

“Alright everyone, here’s the story,” Chrom begins, and he proceeds to fill in the Shepherds that weren’t with us about the Risen attacks and the recruitment of Robin, Virion, and myself. “We in the Council are determining the best course of action, but for the time being we are going to be on standby here. I am recommending to my sister that we in the Shepherds travel to Regna Ferox to request the aid of the khan, but there is still deliberation to do. For now, get acquainted with the new recruits, and stay sharp with your training. That’s all.” I’m surprised once more, as I had been assuming we’d be straight back on the road. Then again, I guess this makes more sense. There are pros and cons of building any alliance, so I’m sure there are some disagreements among the higher-ups as to the best way to go about this.

 

Once Chrom dismisses us, I realize the sun is already setting fairly quickly. I guess I should think about going to bed soon. But in that moment, I catch a whiff of whatever Stahl has cooking in the kitchen and I change my mind about sleep.

 

“Hi there!” I say as I step through the door. The kitchen is pretty impressive, and looks well-stocked. It pays to be on a royal militia’s salary I suppose.

 

Stahl looks up from his cooking and gives me a good-natured grin. “Hi yourself! You’re Randall, right? I’m Stahl, one of the Shepherds’ cavaliers. Nice to meet you!”

 

“Likewise,” I say, inclining my head momentarily. I then notice Miriel seated at one of the tables nearby, with several books sprawled open around her. “And I take it you’re Miriel,” I say. She nods her head without looking up, which is more or less what I expected. “I won’t bother you while you’re working,” I continue, to which she raises a hand in what I assume is appreciation?

 

I step over to Stahl’s cooking station. “So what have we got going here, Mr. Stahl?” I ask, eyeing the massive pot over the fire.

 

“It’s a stew I’ve been slowly perfecting over the years. Beef, chicken, potatoes, carrots, onions, and more, all brought under one happy roof of my mother’s broth. Should be ready here pretty soon, actually.” I think I feel a tear trickle down my face. “So what prompted you to join the Shepherds?” he asks.

 

I shrug. “Necessity? They saved my ass more than once since I met them, after all,” I say noncommittally.

 

He laughs. “Yeah, that’s kind of our thing. It’s good to have you on board, though. You can never have too many healers.”

 

I nod appreciatively, and we end up making small talk for a while. Here and there, he lets me help with the addition of an herb here or some salt there, but for the most part he takes charge. At one point, he allows me to steal a bite of the soup.

 

I swallow the bite. “...Stahl?” I ask.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You know we’re gonna be best friends, right?”

 

“What, because of the stew?”

 

“Partially. But only a truly good man could make stew this good.”

 

“Are you crying?”

 

“No! It’s the onions, probably.”

 

“Did I put in too many oni-?”

 

“NO! No. Don’t change a thing. It’s beautiful as it is.”

 

Mark my words. Stahl and I are going to be best friends. It’s going to be great.

 

Soon though, it’s time to call everyone in for supper.

 

I’ve never seen a more varied and mismatched group crowded around one table before. On one end of the table, Vaike and Stahl are laughing uproariously at some joke or other, while at the other end Miriel still holds a book and is reading while eating, and Lissa is trying to make Maribelle laugh while the latter occasionally glares a dagger or two my way. Is she taking it personally because I’m a healer too, like I’m making a mockery of the profession or something? Anyway, sitting next to me is Sully on my left and nobody on my right. Wait, that’s not true, that cup just moved. I realize with a start that Kellam has been sitting next to me all along.

 

“So, you’re Kellam, right?” I ask the chair next to me. It’s hard to explain the way one experiences the Kellam. Once you know he’s there, you can see him. Kind of. You know what he looks like and you can see what he’s doing, but at the same time you can’t shake the feeling that things are just happening on their own. You hear him speak, and you respond, but even as you’re talking you catch yourself wondering once in a while if the conversation is really happening.

 

“Wait, you can see me?” Kellam asks.

 

“Yup!” I lie. Half-lie. Whatever.

 

“Wow, that’s great! Thanks! You’re right, I’m Kellam. And you’re Randall, I’m told.”

 

“That’s right. Nice to meetcha, big guy.” I smile good-naturedly in what I assume is his general direction.

 

“Same to you.” We don’t speak for a while. “You know Maribelle is mad at you, right?”

 

“So I’m told,” I mutter. I really have to get this Maribelle thing sorted out before it gets too big. I guess I’m not surprised rumors spread quickly in an army this small, though.

 

* * *

 

That night, I return to my room, nursing a glorious food baby. I close the door behind me and give a satisfied sigh. For the first time, I take off my priest’s robes, finding a simple and thin set of black pants and a dark grey long-sleeved shirt underneath. It feels strange to be out of the robes, and it occurs to me at that time that I haven’t had a bath since I arrived in Ylisse. I determine that it’s about time I change that, and in my supply bag I locate a change of clothes (seemingly identical to what I’m already wearing). Satisfied that I’ll have something to put on afterward, I set off to get cleansed.

 

Armed with a large towel, I locate the bathhouse, where a wall divides the men’s and women’s sides of the room. The bathhouse is pretty impressive, actually. Along with the bath itself, there’s a little sauna off to the outside that I determine I must try at a later time. I slide into the proper bath, untying my hair for the first time as well. The familiar feeling of brown, sort-of-curly hair falling around my shoulders is comforting; it makes me feel more like myself. I realize with a start I have no idea what my own face looks like. If the rest of me changed, it’s possible my face did as well, after all.

 

At that moment, Vaike and Stahl enter the bathhouse as well, chatting about something. I guess the bath is a popular place to be at night? They greet me pleasantly, then settle into the bath themselves.

 

After I finish actually cleaning myself off, I ask them, “Do you guys know if there’s a mirror around anywhere?”

 

“What, you need to do your makeup, madam?” Vaike jabs, and Stahl rolls his eyes.

 

“No, I just want to make sure it’s all still, I guess correct?” I say not at all suspiciously. They share a look and each of them raise a brow. “Look, I don’t need it for long, but it would be helpful for just a minute.”

 

Finally I get some help. “Yeah, there are a few, but as I recall they’re all on the women’s side of the bathhouse,” Stahl says. Vaike smirks.

 

You have got to be kidding me. That’s the most monumentally stupid thing I’ve heard this whole journey. The only way I can see my own goddamn face is if I violate the sanctity of the bath partition? This is a scenario that you’d find in a cheaply made ecchi show, not real life. But then again, I really do want to know what I look like. Like, I’m super curious now. Damn it.

 

“Fine, fine. But I want you two guarding the entrance like your lives depend on it, alright?” I say, raising a finger.

 

“Of course!” Vaike says. “We won’t let anyone in.” I eye him carefully, but I don’t think he’s lying.

 

I carefully get out of the bath and wrap the towel around my waist, then step back out into the entrance of the bathhouse. The pair of them follow me and take positions on either side of the doorway, standing like sentries.

 

“Come on, we haven’t got all night,” Vaike says, waving me on toward the women’s room. Sighing a bit nervously, I throw open the door and step inside. I’m actually surprised to see they weren’t lying about the mirrors. I step over to one and take a look.

 

Wow. I’m not gonna lie, I don’t look half bad. It’s still clearly me, but also significantly different. I can see a resemblance, but it takes a minute to place it. I eventually decide it’s sort of like if they combined my own face with Mark Ryder’s Cesare Borgia. Scratch what I said before. I don’t look even a quarter bad. I feel around on my face a bit, getting acclimated to my new face. I stroke my short beard and wonder if the Shepherds find me suspicious because in Fire Emblem, basically only baddies get beards most of the time.

 

My thoughts are interrupted by a movement behind me, and I see the door to the sauna open up.

 

No. No please. I’m serious, please don’t. I would prefer literally anything to this.

 

Ignoring my pleas, the universe decides to place an exceedingly nude Maribelle in the room with me. For a moment, I don’t think it registers with her who I am because my hair is down, but watching that moment of realization in the mirror as I begin scrambling for the door is like watching a human shift into a werewolf. I don’t even remember exactly what she screeches at me as I flee, but I think it includes words like “gutter-born,” “slimy,” “troglodyte,” and the like. I’m only half-listening, as most of my faculties are devoted to closing the gap between me and the door as quickly as possible.

 

I slam the door shut behind me and am greeting with the helplessly laughing Vaike and Stahl as they literally roll around on the floor. “You guys are assholes, you know that?” I ask. They laugh harder. “You saw her go in while you were coming in yourselves, didn’t you?” If possible, they laugh even harder. “You know she’s gonna hate me forever, right?”

 

Eventually, they catch their breath. “Relax,” says Vaike. “It was just a harmless prank!”

 

I jerk my thumb toward the door, behind which I think I can still hear Maribelle pacing angrily, and say, “Does that seem harmless to you? I completely rescind my approval of your belch earlier, by the way,” I say to Vaike with as much venom as I can muster.

 

“Whatever you have to say to feel better, man,” he replies, wiping a tear from his eye.

 

I skulk past the pair of them and head straight to my room, locking the door and then immediately checking to make sure it’s locked a few more times before throwing on my bedclothes and lying on my bed, wholly not in the mood to sleep anymore.

 

I guess it’s a sign that I’m bonding with them quickly if they already feel like they can pull a prank like that on me. It seemed like it wasn’t ill-intentioned on their part, so I figure it’s ultimately a good sign. That’s what I tell myself to get myself to calm down, anyway. After a long while, I can finally feel myself drifting off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“Randall.”

 

My eyes snap open. I sit up and look around and GAH HOLY SHIT WHO- oh. It’s Lucina. Wait, what?

 

“Umm…hi Marth? Not that I'm not elated to see you, but mind telling me what you're doing?” I say slowly, not sure what else to do.

 

“Good evening. I’m sorry to sneak around like this, but I needed to have a word with you alone,” she replies. I glance at the door and notice it still appears to be locked. Did she come in through the window? This is the third floor. Holy hell.

 

“Welp, I’d say you found me. What’s up?” I ask, attempting nonchalance to cover the fact that she startled the hell outta me. I sit up properly in my bed and face her.

 

“This is a strange conversation to be having, so please bear with me,” she says. You’re telling me, Luci. I wasn’t expecting any late night visitors, especially ones that are supposed to be heading to Ferox right about now to become Basilio’s champion if I recall. “I suppose I should start with this.” Glancing around a few times to make sure no one is watching, she reaches up and takes off her mask. “I know you know who I am already, so in private company there is no need to be secretive about my identity. I know that you know a great deal about this world already, things no outsider should know.”

 

“And you know this...how?” I ask, brow raised.

 

“You told me,” she says simply.

 

That makes sense. “I see. Future me must have spilled the beans on our little secret.”

 

“Something like that. But I come with a warning.” Her expression turns grim.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“I know you are already contemplating ways to change the path that we will walk. I am asking you not to,” she says slowly.

 

I pause for a moment. “Wait. You, the future traveler from a ruined future come back to the past to change things, only to then warn me not to change things as well?” I ask incredulously.

 

“Well, I should specify. The you from the future told me to tell you, ‘Stick to the script.’ He said you would know what that means,” she says, shifting her weight side to side.

 

What? Why would he say that? What’s the point of me being here if not to help make things better? Hell, isn’t my mere presence a change from the script? “Lucina, that doesn’t even begin to make sense, and he knows that. I understand technically what he means, but it cannot be done even if I wanted to.”

 

“He also figured you would be obstinate. He said if that were the case, I should give you this.” She hands me a small folded note. “I didn’t read it, as per his request.”

 

“Thanks,” I say, unsure of what else would be appropriate. “So...I should keep calling you Marth for now?” I ask.

 

“That would be best, yes. Of course, please don’t tell any of the Shepherds about me. I intend to keep helping, but not as one of you.”

 

“Oh, that reminds me. I always wanted to know something about you. Mind if I ask?”

 

“Um…Of course, go ahead.”

 

“You’re planning on going to Ferox to act as Basilio’s champion, right?” Her eyes widen as I reveal knowledge of her future plans. She nods slowly. “Um...Why? What’s necessary about that?”

 

After a moment, she collects herself. “Well, in my time, Lon’qu is an astoundingly strong soldier and ally to the Shepherds’ cause, but he has one fatal flaw.”

 

“The women thing?”

 

“No, a physical defect. An enduring wound from his duel with my father that never fully healed. His sword arm was never quite what it was after that day. I intend to prevent him from dueling my father to prevent this injury,” she explains. Wow. That’s actually a much more cogent response than I expected.

 

“Props to you, then. That’s a nice plan, assuming you can avoid getting hurt yourself,” I say.

 

She smirks confidently. “I know my father’s fighting style backwards and front. I’ll know what he plans to do in the fight before he does. And besides, I intend to let him win.” Oof, that’s a blow to his pride if he ever learns about that. “However, I have already stayed too long. I must be off to Ferox before the Council decides to send you all north as well. I’ve got a longer trip to West Ferox than you’ll have to East Ferox, after all.”

 

“Right. Good luck then, Marth,” I say, raising a hand in farewell. She dons her mask, nods politely, and leaps out my window. I cross over to the window to see how on earth she can land that safely, but by the time I get there she is already gone. She really needs to teach me that one.

 

I cross over to the bed and sit, lighting a lamp to read the note. It reads (in my own handwriting, which is trippy),

 

Know when to use your power. And use it.

 

A chill runs down my spine as it occurs to me what power he means. Is it really possible to use this respawn mechanic to change history like that? Can I reconcile myself with the implications of using the power proactively. My brain is already thinking of which methods of suicide would be the least painful. The thoughts quickly make me feel a little sick, so I decide that sleep is the better option for now.

 

Suddenly truly exhausted, I burn the note in the lamp’s flame, extinguish the lamp, and I’m pretty sure I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.


End file.
